


Divine Justice

by chains_archivist



Category: Original Work
Genre: Boys in Chains, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Slaves, Work In Progress, Yaoi, mature themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Madam Hydra<br/>Alecto plots to destroy the Moerae clan in retaliation for their crimes against his family. However, in his ruthless pursuit of his goals, he becomes blind to the consequences of his actions. Only after he falls in love with the innocent young man chosen to serve as his personal instrument of destruction does Alecto understand the terrible cost of his revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divine Justice

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).

What though the field be lost? All is not lost; th' unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield.

  -- John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book I, line 105.

Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.

 -- John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book IX, line 171.   
    
 

Alec stared out the huge window that made up the entire east wall of the room.  It was nighttime.  From the high tower that overlooked most of the megatropolis, he could see the bright lights of the city, the columns of light that were other corporate buildings, and the flash of racing vehicles.  In the air, he saw flitters zooming around the other skyscrapers like careless moths.  Not that any of the aircraft dared to approach to within spying distance of this tower.  To do that would be to invite a most unfortunate 'accident' for the unauthorized trespasser.

He turned around to gaze at the other occupant of the large room.  A beautiful, sleekly muscled young man with longish dark hair knelt patiently on the floor.  If Alec decided to leave the room for an entire day, he was absolutely certain that he would return to find the young man had not moved one iota out of the specified position.

Actually, Alec knew that if he didn't give permission for the other to move, the dark-haired young man would stay in that very spot until he died of thirst.

  Alec brushed his dark red hair from his face, then slowly walked over to the young man kneeling on the floor.  He gently put his hands on both sides of the other's head and tilted up his face.  The red-haired man stared down into those dark eyes for a long moment before speaking.

"What do you see?" Alec whispered.

"Whatever you want me to see," came the soft, obedient response.

"What do you hear?"

"Whatever you want me to hear."

"What do you feel?"

"Whatever you want me to feel."

"What will you remember?"

"Whatever you want me to remember."

"What will you believe?" Alec finally asked.

"Whatever you want me to believe," came the young man's submissive reply, his eyes gleaming with total adoration and love.

"What will you do for me?"

"Anything...," came a soft, sighing whisper.

Alec gently ran his thumb along the elegant line of the young man's cheekbone and watched as the other shivered in pleasure and awakened desire.  Impossible as it might seem, the look of love and devotion in the young man's dark eyes seemed to deepen and intensify.

Of course if Alec wanted the young man to feel pain instead of pleasure, all the redhead had to do was specify what kind of pain, how much, and how long.  It was that simple.  Obedient to his master's slighest wish or whim, the dark-haired young man would do the rest himself... to himself.

But no matter what Alec might demand of him, the feeling -- that all-consuming love -- and the need to obey would never go away.

The redhead sighed quietly, even as he continued to lightly stroke the other's face.  His foster-uncle had tried his best to talk him out of his plans for revenge... had tried to warn Alec about the cost of vengeance.  But after what had happened to Alec and his family, he had been in no mood to listen back then.   
    
 

 **********

"Leave it be, boy!" the elderly man snapped.  "You've got your whole life in front of you.  Don't waste it on hatred and anger!  Revenge isn't going to make you forget everything you suffered through or bring back everything you've lost!  Eventually God will see that they'll pay for what they've done...."

"So you're telling me to leave it to fate, old man?  You want me to just go my *merry* little way and rely on chance and dumb luck to deal out justice?  Don't tell me that you still believe in things like gods and divine justice in this day and age!"

"Don't you understand?"  The elderly man sighed wearily.  "Alec, you may have been one who has been terribly wronged, but if you blindly pursue the path of vengeance, you could easily become the one who wrongs others.  If you claim the right to seek revenge, then be prepared for others to seek revenge on *you*!  It'll become a vicious cycle that'll destroy everyone it touches!  The innocent as well as the guilty!"

"That's not my concern...."

"You could easily become just as bad as your enemies."

"Do you think I care?"

"If you aren't damn careful, you're going to end up doing things that you'll regret for the rest of your life!"

"I'm willing to pay that price if I have to."

**********

If only he had listened to wiser heads....

But now it was too late.  Much too late.

The young, black-haired man kneeling at his feet reached up as if to touch Alec, but then froze, afraid to offend the object of his adoration in the slightest way.

Alec did not doubt that the young man would do exactly what he promised.  He would do anything -- absolutely anything -- to please Alec....

....except for the one thing that Alec wanted most of all.

He could never *choose* to love Alec of his own free will.

Alec had selected his target so very carefully... had taken the very best and most beloved one from among his enemies... had irrevocably broken him and reforged him into a weapon to be used against his own family.

Alec had now owned the dark-haired young man -- mind, body, and soul.

But in turn, Alec had utterly lost his heart.

As he bent down to kiss the other, Alec was again haunted by the possibility that some part -- a tiny fragment -- of the dark-haired young man might still be aware....

....aware of what Alec had done to him....

....aware and screaming....

Divine justice, indeed.

The gods must be laughing.   
 

**********

[Elysium]

Valasquez, Lieutenant, Special Security, took a deep breath as she stood outside the imposing doors leading to the CEO's office.  She had drawn the short straw and was duly designated as the delivery-person of bad news and potential sacrificial scapegoat.

(That'll teach me to piss off my section chief, won't it?)

Finally, she pushed the intercom button and received an immediate reply.

"Enter," said a cold female voice.

Passing through the opened doors, Valasquez walked across the dark green carpet and stopped in front of the large gleaming desk.  Behind the desk sat the CEO of Elysium Corporation, a tall statuesque woman of intimidating beauty.  Her skin was pale perfection and her long, curly black hair was drawn back in a high ponytail which accentuated the classical bones of her face.

The CEO's dark, almost black eyes seemed to bore into Valasquez as she silently waited for the Lieutenant to speak.

"Ma'am, all reports are negative.  We've found no trace of him."

A slim dark eyebrow quirked upward.

Valasquez had worked in Elysium Corporation's Special Security Division for nearly a decade, but she still felt her palms grow sweaty as she nervously awaited for the CEO's reaction to her news -- or the lack thereof.  However, the Lieutenant quickly realized that a woman like Medea Moerae was far too controlled to openly display what had to be a mounting sense of frustration and urgency to a mere subordinate.

"Indeed.  Is that all?" was Medea's cool response.

"Yes, Ma'am.  Under specific orders from Chief Garretty, my team followed what he considered the most promising tips and leads, but they all eventually came to dead-ends."

After a few seconds of thoughtful silence, Medea finally said, "I see.  And the missing security detail?"

"There's been no trace of them, either, Ma'am."

The CEO calmly waited, as if expecting Valasquez to say more.

The Lieutenant took a deep breath and said, "Ma'am, it is my considered opinion that all the leads we've so conveniently found were actually false trails that were designed to sidetrack us.  There's strong evidence to suggest that we're looking in the wrong place.  I don't think your brother ever arrived at his destination."

"But Garretty doesn't agree with you."

"No, Ma'am."

Medea activated her intercom and spoke to her assistant.  "Philotes, have Chief Garretty report to me at once." The CEO turned back to Valasquez.  "Lieutenant, you're now in charge of the investigation.  I trust that your next report will be more informative and thorough than your former superior's."

"Yes, Ma'am."

(God, I hope that nothing's serious has happened to him, or there's going to be bloody hell to pay.)  Valasquez didn't know Moerae's brother well, but she had worked security for many of the executive and high society parties.  Talented and personable, Sichore Moerae was generally and affectionately regarded as the white sheep among the ruthless pack of corporate wolves known as the Moerae family.

A discreet buzz shook the Lieutenant from her musings.

"Yes?" said Medea.

"Ma'am, a priority call from Tartarus Corporation," Medea's assistant replied over the intercom.

"Very well.  A moment."  Turning back to Valasquez, there was an ominous glitter in her black eyes as Medea added, "People like my brother do not simply vanish.  Not by accident, nor by carelessness.  He's been missing for over a month now.  I want answers and I want them now.  Dismissed."

"Yes, Ma'am."  Valasquez saluted crisply and turned to leave.  As she left the office, she caught a glimpse of an extremely handsome man with dark red hair on the main video monitor.

**********

Medea Moerae leaned back in her chair and said coolly, "And what do I owe this pleasure to, Alecto?"

The red-haired man, who looked like he was barely in his mid-twenties, gave her a calm smile.  "And I hope you're feeling well, Medea.  I was calling about the status of the Damask Project."

"All the technical support modules will be ready on schedule as always.  Why the sudden concern?"

Alecto murmured, "I've recently received some reports that your youngest brother is missing."

Medea's expression remained unchanged.  Although the family had kept Sichore's disappearance quiet in order to prevent fake ransom demands, it was not surprising that the CEO of such a large conglomerate such as Tartarus would eventually find out.  He undoubtedly had a set of informants inside Elysium itself, just like she had her own informants within his corporation.

"That is true."  There was no point or profit in Medea trying to deny the report.

Alecto brushed several long strands of his dark red hair away from his face.  "That's very unfortunate.  I didn't know him well, but I do know that he's an immensely talented artist.  It would be a tragedy if all that potential was lost.  If you require... assistance?"

Medea nodded a polite acknowledgment.  Alecto was known to be a connoisseur of things beautiful and talented.  She serenely replied, "Our security is investigating.  However, I assure you that there is no effect on our other operations.  The deadlines will be met."  She smiled faintly.  "Unless you were hoping for a delay."

He gave her an equally polite, meaningless smile.  "The weapon systems will ready for delivery on schedule...."

**********

[Tartarus]

After the conversation with Medea ended, Alec took a deep breath, then stood up and headed back to his bedroom suite.  The large room seemed so empty without Sichore there....

(No, not Sichore.  Sichore Moerae doesn't exist any more.)

How could he ever forget that fact, even for a second, not when he was the one who had taken Sichore apart with such slow, exquisite precision?

**********

"What the hell's going on!?"

Instead of answering, Alec walked around the naked, dark-haired young man strapped down in the chair.  He took his time, getting a feel for his subject.

Finally, he said, "You recognize me, don't you?"

Sichore watched his captor warily.  "Of course I do," he said evenly and left it at that.

He was pleased that Sichore wasn't wasting energy on useless displays of anger and bluster.  There was a surprising amount of strength and self-discipline both in that slim, graceful body and in that agile mind.  That made things both harder and easier for both of them.

"Well, we're going to get to know each other much better over the next several days."  He gently wrapped his hand around Sichore's throat and lightly brushed his thumb over a nerve point.

As Sichore took in the medical surroundings, Alec was pleased that the young man was no fool and could guess what was coming.

"Brainwashing?" Sichore finally said in a level voice that almost managed to hide any sign of fear or anxiety....

He smiled calmly at his subject.  "Nothing so mundane.  I'm simply going to deconstruct and remake you."

"Why?" Sichore whispered, his face going pale.

"Revenge," came the simple, but inexorable reply.

Turning to one of the silent technicians, he said, "The genetic vector, please."

**********

Alec shook his head sharply, as if to shake off the memories.  Yes, it had started in that antiseptic room deep in the core of this building -- all very cold and clinical -- but the process had finished here, in this very bedroom, amid tangled sheets and the scent of sex....

He wandered over to the glass wall and stared out into the night.  Somewhere out in the middle of the sprawling megatropolis was the young man who had once been Sichore Moerae.  If he wanted to know exactly, all Alec needed to do was ask Nyx, his head of security.  But he wasn't in the mood to deal with that tonight.  Impersonal surveillance reports  couldn't take the place of a warm body curled up in his arms....

Alec propped his forehead against the glass and wistfully wondered if his lover was thinking about him.

**********

[Downlevels of the city]

In a roomy loft in one of the lower class sections of the city, a dark-haired young man was brutally jarred out of his peaceful sleep by an intense surge of desire.  His dark eyes stared blindly out into the room, dimly and intermittently lit by the flash of distant neon signs.  He writhed helplessly on the bed, his fingers clawing and knotting into the sheets.

God, he needed... he needed... there was something he needed so badly, but he didn't... *couldn't* remember what it was.

"Please...," he whispered, his head tossing restlessly against the pillow, but he had no idea who he was asking or what he was begging for.

**********

"Please...."  He could hear himself whimpering the words.  The ache in his body was so bad, he could barely breathe, and the searing desire was being relentlessly stoked by constant teasing touches from the slim, elegant fingers that manipulated and controlled the sensations raging through his body with frightening ease.

Then *that* voice murmured, "Please what?"

"Please... I... want you in me...."

The slim fingers suddenly stopped moving.

"You... want....?"  His Master's voice abruptly become searingly cold.

He shuddered in fright.  His fear and anxiety was fully justified as the desire... the hunger inside him suddenly seemed to double in intensity.  He would have screamed, but that wasn't allowed....

"You... want...?" his Master's voice repeated in dulcet, ominous tones.

His hypersensitive body could feel his Master getting up from the bed.  An arm pulled his hips up while his face was shoved into the bedsheets.

"Don't move and be quiet," came the stern command.

Then he heard the door close as his Master left him alone.

He wasn't sure just how long he lay there, face down on the bed, his knees spread wide and his ass in the air.  It seemed like forever, but he didn't dare move.  If he did....  Just the mere contemplation of disobeying one of his Master's direct orders brought on a familiar, agonizing wave of guilt, shame, and distress that hurt worse than any physical pain.

Finally, after a seeming eternity frozen in the same position, his body burning and aching, the door reopened and he felt his Master sitting down beside him.

"Now that you've had a chance to think about it more carefully, please *what*?"

He felt a flood of relief.  His Master didn't sound angry.

"Please... I... I NEED you in me!"

"That's better."  The fingers returned to their teasing, tormenting ways as they lightly brushed the cleft in his buttocks.  "Remember that.  You don't have wants.  You don't have desires.  You only have needs.  Do you understand me?"

"Y-Yes...."

"And I'm the only one who can satisfy those needs."

"Yesss...."  His hips rocked as he felt his Master's fingers slowly, but effortlessly sliding into him.

"After all, I designed you.  I made you what you are."

His head bobbed helplessly, both from obedient agreement and from the involuntary muscle spasms evoked by his Master's touch.  He heard a low, satisfied chuckle and felt a hand caress the curve of his buttocks with a proprietory air.

"With all the other bio-enhancements I made, it was a very simple matter to make some minor adjustments to the muscles and tissues here.  Increasing the nerve end density...."

He was his Master's creation... his property.  He rejoiced in that thought, but something deep inside him stirred uneasily.  However, that dim sense of resistance was instantly swept away as his Master lightly stroked a certain spot deep inside him.  He shuddered as the resulting pleasure flooded his mind... but the pleasure did nothing to ease the desire that was consuming him.  It wasn't enough to make the need go away.

"And some self-lubrication in the tissue linings here...."

Slick fingers slithered tantalizingly inside him before finally pulling completely out of him, leaving him hollow... empty....  He barely managed to choke back a wail of loss and deprivation.

Then without warning, his Master plunged his cock deep into him and began to thrust slowly.

"How remarkably convenient.  You should thank me for being so considerate," his Master said in a faintly amused voice.

For a moment, the pleasure so total, he couldn't answer.  He was so full....  He knew that the desire -- the all-consuming need -- would return.  It always did.  But for this brief instant, he was content.

"Thank you, Master," he whispered.

**********

The dark-haired young man abruptly sat bolt upright in his bed and glanced around wildly for a few seconds before he realized that his phone was buzzing.  He jumped out of bed and nearly fell on his face as his knees unexpectedly buckled.

"Damn sheets," he muttered as he tried to kick himself free.  Finally, he managed to stagger over to the phone.

"Hello...?"

"Errin, where are you!?"

"Noriaki, where do you expect me to be at this hour?" Errin replied in his usual soft, reasonable voice.

"I can't locate Fen, Deuce is drunk out of his mind, and Yataro's up and dumped us for Kazuhiko!" wailed Noriaki.

Errin sighed patiently, then said, "I warned you that Yataro would leave...." He held the phone away from his ear as Noriaki started cursing furiously.  When the stream of obscenities slowed down, he said, "Okay, calm down.  I'll be right there.  I think I know where we can find another bass guitarist and Fen's probably in jail after another bar fight.  Now see what you can to do sober up Deuce."

As he hung up, he ruefully shook his head.  Noriaki was a terrific guitarist and singer, but talk about high-strung....

He hastily threw on his usual outfit -- a baggy t-shirt and loose, comfortable slacks -- then got ready to leave.  But as he flung open the front door to his loft, he stopped a moment and glanced back at his bed.

He frowned slightly.  There had been something... a dream?  A nightmare?  The details seemed to elude any effort at recall.

Errin Nyes -- who, a few months ago, had been known by many in the corporate world as Sichore Moerae -- shook his head impatiently and ran out the door.

After all, if he didn't remember whatever it was, it couldn't possibly be that important.

**********

Tashiro was hauling the last of his belongings into his new apartment when his phone rang.  He dug through several piles of clothes before he managed to locate it.

"Yeah?"

"Tashiro, glad I caught you!" said an familiar cheerful voice.

"Noriaki!  I didn't expect to hear from you so soon.  I just got back into town."

"Yeah, I was just wondering if you would come down to the Cortege and listen to us play."

"Uh... I don't know about that.  I mean, it's not you, but...."  Tashiro ran his fingers through his short bluish-white hair.

"Oh, if you're worried about Kazuhiko, don't.  He bailed out on us."

"Whoa!  When did this all happen!?"

"About a month ago.  He managed to slither his way into some fancy corp guy's bed, then probably used the connection to land himself a cushy recording deal," Noriaki said in a disgusted voice.

From the tone of the other's voice, Tashiro guessed that Noriaki's version was rather skewed.  Kazuhiko was an ambitious bastard, but he also was a very talented bastard.

"Uh... but if he left, doesn't that mean he took the band name AND all the music?" Tashiro said in a concerned voice.

"Yeah.  The greedy son-of-a-bitch pretty much left us starting from scratch."  Noriaki sounded furious, but also philosophical.

Tashiro understood the problem.  Kazuhiko had formed the band Fantome and written most of its songs.  If a bunch of corporate lawyers were willing to make a big stink out over the ownership of the band name and music, there wasn't much that Noriaki and the remaining members of the band could do.

"Both Emi and that dick-head Yataro dumped us, too."

"I see, lost your lead singer, your manager, and your bass guitarist all in one shot.  Well, that's hardly unexpected.  Yataro always does whatever Kazuhiko wants him to do.  The guy doesn't have any original thought in that thick skull of his.  And it sounds like Emi's still got the hots for Kazuhiko...."

"Even though he treats her like dirt and sleeps around right under her nose."  There was something in Noriaki's voice that set off warning bells in Tashiro's head.

"Hell, don't tell me that you and Kazuhiko were...."

Noriaki winced.  "I know, you warned me about him, but when you left so suddenly a year ago, he seemed so upset and hurt.  One thing led to another and... well, you know how it goes."

"Are you... okay?" Tashiro knew exactly how manipulative Kazuhiko could be.

"What are a few more scars, here and there?  I thought I knew what I was getting into, but I guess I was wrong. I should have listened to you.  Put it down to experience."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, I was stupid.  I know better now."  Noriaki made a visible effort to regain his former good mood.  "Anyway...."

Tashiro gladly changed the topic to something less painful.  "So where does that leave you?  Are Deuce and Fen still around?"

"Yeah.  What else could we do?"  Over the phone, he saw Noriaki shrug and say carelessly, "We put together a new band."

"If Kazuhiko took his songs with him, so what are you playing?"

"We're covering some old songs, but we're mostly playing new stuff.  We've hooked up with this new guy.  I mean, I've never seen anyone like him.  If you come by to see us tonight, I'll introduce you two."

"Okay, I'll be there.

"Great!  Catch you later!"

"Hey, what you calling the new band?"

"Eumenides."  And with that, Noriaki hung up.

Tashiro simmered.  Kazuhiko went through lovers like tissue, except he always made sure to shred the tissue so no one else could have it.   First the former lead singer had screwed around with Tashiro and now Noriaki.  Kazuhiko managed to keep Noriaki around until he was ready to dump the old members of the band, Fen stayed only because of Deuce and Deuce stayed because of his cousin Noriaki.  What a fucking mess.

**********

[Tartarus]

In his office high in the Tartarus Corporation's main tower, Alec sat at his desk reviewing the new computer simulations.  The results were not promising.

"Damn."  The softly spoken word gave few hints of the frustration brewing inside him.  For once, he had done his work TOO thoroughly.

His sisters Megaera and Tisiphone, both murdered over twenty years ago, had done the initial development on the Fury project, but he had been the one to refine it, to change it from a simple experiment controlling rat behavior into a process that would rebuild a normal human being into a near-perfect assassin.

The beauty of the behavior control system Alec developed was that it completely preserved the subject's ability to reason and analyze.  Instead of relying on lies to manipulate and control the subject, the control system relied on the truth and cold, hard facts that were as irrefutable as the scientific laws of entropy and gravity.

As a result, Sichore wasn't the least bit confused in his thinking.  He was perfectly aware of what had happened to him... knew exactly how he was programmed to respond... knew that he was emotionally enslaved to Alec's slightest whim.

Sichore just didn't care.

Fact: He loved Alec.

Fact: He existed to please Alec.

Fact: Alec must be obeyed.

To Sichore, these facts were undeniable and beyond contradiction.  They were things that he simply accepted as part of reality.

The only thing that might undo Sichore's programming was to completely disassemble his mind and rebuild it from scratch -- and there was no guarantee that it would even work.

Besides, Alec didn't think he had the courage to face doing something that traumatic to Sichore *again*.

**********

Sichore awoke easily.  No drowsiness, no lingering headache.  It was as easy as opening his eyes.

Any hopes that his last conscious memories had only been some hideous nightmare vanished as he again found himself strapped down and naked in a partially reclined chair.

He glanced up to see the elegant red-haired man who called himself Alecto standing several feet in front of him with a cool smile on his lips.

"Do you feel my cock inside you?" Alecto inquired in a casual tone of voice.

The unexpected crudeness of the question made him stare at his captor in stunned bewilderment, then a ripple of sensation between his buttocks made the significance of Alecto's inquiry abundantly clear.

He could feel something sliding into his rear.  It wasn't at all painful -- whatever it was slender and wet, slipping easily past his tightly clenched anal muscles.  He squirmed frantically, but strapped down as he was, he could do nothing to stop the intruder that wormed its way irresistibly into his body.

"I can tell by your response that the answer is yes," Alecto murmured with satisfaction.  The redhead hadn't touched him at all, but Sichore could sense the dark green eyes moving down his bare, helplessly exposed body.

"But don't you think that my cock would be a bit more... substantial than that?"

As if it agreed with Alecto's words, Sichore suddenly felt the slender object crammed up his ass throb and swell.  There was still no pain, but an involuntary cry escaped his throat as with every pulse, the thing seemed to grow bigger and longer, penetrating ever deeper into the intimate recesses of his body.

"No... stop it!  MAKE IT STOP!"

When he arched his back in a futile attempt to escape the steadily increasing pressure inside him, the restraints binding him to the chair unexpectedly retracted.  His legs refused to support him and he found himself sliding helplessly onto the floor at Alecto's feet.

His first thought was to try to yank out the thing that was lodged deep inside him, the thing that violated him.  But his wildly groping fingers encountered... nothing.

"What the...!?" he choked out, frantically twisting around to get a good look at himself.  His eyes confirmed what his fingers told him -- there was nothing there.

As he continued to fumble and search for that pulsing member that he *knew* had to be inside him, Alecto bent down and whispered in his ear.

"That's right.  It's all in your mind.  But that doesn't mean that this experience is any less real, at least for you."  In a near-purr, Alecto leaned even closer and said, "Feel it moving inside you?"

Oh yes, he could feel it.  Whatever it was, it moved in ways no cock ever could, touching and fondling parts inside him in impossible ways.  With his thoughts going to pieces under the relentless sensual onslaught, he swung wildly at Alecto.

The redhead gracefully swayed away from the blow and chuckled.  "Stubborn, aren't you?  Well, that's part of the reason I chose you as the subject for this project."

"B-Bastard-aaahhhhh...!"  Sichore found himself rocking back and forth uncontrollably as the steady pulsing he felt shifted to intense, measured thrusts.  It didn't matter if the thing inside him didn't really exist.  He couldn't stop his body from responding as if it was totally real.

And his body loved it.

In a detached voice, Alecto said, "Isn't that a magnificent sight?  A beautiful male helpless in the throes of mindless passion."

He could only hang there, panting with his mouth open.  The sensations dominated his body so completely that he couldn't even breathe except in rhythm with the relentless thrusts.

"There's no escape, no place you can run or hide from this.  You can try telling yourself that it's not really happening -- that it's all in your imagination.  But all willpower in the world can't make you stop feeling whatever I want you to feel."

Alecto's green eyes gleamed coldly as he whispered, "And at this moment, I want you to feel *pleasure*.  Everywhere.  Up your ass, along your cock, around your balls.  Everywhere."

And as soon as Alecto said the words, Sichore experienced it.

He clamped his hands over his ears, frantically trying to shut out his captor's voice, but it was too late.  His eyes went wide and a low, pleading moan escaped from his throat as the pleasure oozed like a living thing from his anus to his cock and testicles.  His rioting senses told him that he was being penetrated, sucked, and stroked by the most skilled lover in the world....

....but Alecto hadn't laid a hand on him....

"You've probably never experienced anything this pleasurable before, have you?  Curious how I managed to accomplish this?  Well, I may have given the initial commands, but it's your own mind that's interpreting and fulfilling those commands.  That's why it feels so good, so perfect.  Your mind knows exactly how to create the greatest possible pleasure.  Theoretically speaking, if you try hard enough, you might... just might be able to regain control of yourself and make it stop.  But I doubt it," said Alecto with a cool chuckle.

Through some monumental effort of willpower, he somehow managed to make his body stop moving.  He lay on the floor, quivering with the effort to remain still, to not surrender to the sensations....

Alecto raised an elegant eyebrow.  "Now that's truly impressive.  I didn't expect that you to have that much self-control.  You have no idea how useful that strength will be when you serve me.  But I'm afraid I can't let you get away with even this small victory."  He smiled and said softly, "Now feel the ecstasy.  Pure, total, utter ecstasy.  Ecstasy that you will never forget."

"Noooo.... ahhh!"  Long black hair went flying as his head thrashed helplessly for side to side in response to the explosion of nearly intolerable pleasure inside him.

He felt his lips curl up in a faint, hopeless little smile, even as his fingers scrabbled and clawed at his own flesh, leaving long bloody scratches as he desperately tried to stop the tidal waves of pleasure that were now pounding through his body, swamping his senses, and drowning all rational thought.

It continued, pushing his mind closer and closer to utter madness.  He was beyond speech, beyond resistance, beyond thought and still the pleasure continued to mount.

And throughout the entire experience, he was dimly aware of Alecto watching from a nearby chair and calmly sipping a cup of coffee.

Finally, in an almost bored voice, Alecto said, "Now."

And with that single word, he was left sprawled wantonly on the floor, sweat dripping off his body, as he writhed mindlessly in the throes of the longest and most intense orgasm in his life.

When he finally managed to start thinking again with some degree of coherence, he hoarsely whispered, "What... what the HELL did you... do to me?"

Alecto put down his cup.  In a calm, clinical voice, he said, "While you were unconscious, I took the opportunity to make some changes to your neural network."  He cocked his head slightly.  "Not a mere software change, but rather a hardware change.  In short, I've physically rewired your brain, down to the genetic level."

He stared at Alecto with a mounting sense of horror.

"I see that you recognize the significance of that.  This type of neural hardwiring has been attempted before, but never to this degree.  According to my calculations, the effects are quite irreversible.  In fact, I'm rather pleased at the results so far," Alecto added with ominous satisfaction.

He glanced around wildly, instinctively searching for a way out of this ever-deepening nightmare.

As if he read his victim's mind, Alecto smiled and said, "As I told you before, there's nowhere to run or hide.   I've already made your mind into your own worst enemy."

He shivered in dread.  If Alecto could do such things to him by simply saying a few words....

"Now what?" he whispered, dread sitting like a large cold lump in his chest.  "I guess pleasure's the carrot, so now you're going to show me... the stick...."

He tried to put a brave face on it, but deep inside, he could already feel the near-uncontrollable craving, the *need* for the pleasure.  It was all he could do to keep himself from begging for more.  And the more he thought about it, the more he wanted it.  Alecto would be all too happy to give him all the ecstasy he desired... with certain conditions attached, of course.  But the more pleasure he experienced, the more he would need it, and so it would go on and on -- he could already feel his mind and body being chained almost willingly to the vicious, addicting cycle.

With a cold laugh, Alecto said, "I can already see the hunger in your eyes.  No matter how much you want to deny it, you want the pleasure and you know I'm the only one who can give it to you."

He hastily shoved the memories of ecstasy aside and tried to concentrate on other things.  If Alecto was capable of inflicting pain that was anything as intense as the pleasure he had just experienced....

Alecto continued, "But as for the 'stick', as you call it, I won't be using ordinary physical pain to break you.  You see, a weapon must learn to function regardless of physical pain, no matter how severe.  That makes that sort of simple pain somewhat problematic as a control mechanism."

He smiled slowly, then touched Sichore for the first time, threading his elegant fingers through Sichore's long black hair.  Suddenly, he clenched his fist and wrenched the other's head back sharply.

"You're only partially right.  I *am* going to use the tried and true carrot-and-stick method.  I'm going to break you using pleasure and pain... not physical pain, but an entirely different sort of pain.  It's the irresistible, gut-wrenching pain that comes from within -- the pain that comes from knowing that you've done something wrong... the pain that comes from uncontrollable need.  And you will soon learn that the only way to obtain the exquisite pleasure and to avoid the terrible pain is total and utter submission.  That one truth will define your entire existence."

Sichore tried to shake his head in denial, but Alecto's iron grip made that impossible.

"That's what you're here for, Sichore -- to learn the truth and for you, the only truth is obedience.  I'm going to teach you many things.  How to think, how to feel.  What's wrong, what's right.  And you're not only going to thank me, but you're also going to love me for it."

**********

[Downlevels of the city]

Later that night, sitting in the audience at the Cortege, Tashiro had to admit that he was impressed with Noriaki's new band.  Eumenides had definite potential and was bound to go places.  In fact, the guys sounded even better than the old Fantome band with Kazuhiko in the lead.  Kazuhiko was a hell of a singer and guitarist, but he was the sort of selfish, domineering bastard who had to stand out wherever he went and in whatever he did.  He *hated* any sort of competition.  That was one of Tashiro's reasons for leaving Fantome a year ago -- aside from Kazuhiko's vicious emotional mindgames, he couldn't stand the stifling atmosphere.  Kazuhiko insisted that the band play *his* songs and play them *his* way.  All the other band members had ended up being nothing more than backup musicians to Kazuhiko's one man show.

But now with Kazuhiko gone and with the new songs, the band's sound was richer, with everyone contributing their fair share.  But beyond that, the new songs really managed to catch his attention.  People might laugh at him and call him jealous, but he had always thought that Kazuhiko's songs had been a bit artificial.  The guy just didn't put his heart into his music.  However, it seemed that Eumenides' new songwriter was very different.  Although they varied widely in mood and subject, practically all the songs had the sort of intensity that grabbed at one's heart and guts.  Maybe it was a brutal sort of honesty, or perhaps something else, but all Tashiro knew was that those songs would linger in his mind long after this performance was over.

As soon as the crowd started to thin out and the band started to pack up for the night, Tashiro headed toward the stage.

Noriaki was on his usual post-performance high.  With his long blond hair flying all over the place, he bounced around demanding, "Well, what did you think!?"

Tashiro grinned slowly.  "Not bad...."

"Not bad... not bad!?  Is that all you've got to say?"

"Okay, okay!  Eumenides is pretty damn good!  Satisfied?"

"Hardly, but it'll have to do for now.  Hey, I want you to meet our secret weapon."

"Secret weapon?"

"Yeah.  With Errin's songs, I bet we can grind Kazuhiko's sorry ass into the dirt!"

"Now I've got to met this miracle," said Tashiro with a grin.

Noriaki dragged Tashiro back stage and yelled, "Errin!  Yo, Errin!"

Tashiro glanced around, trying to identify who Noriaki was referring to.  However, whatever he was expecting, it wasn't the unassuming young man who popped up from behind a pile of equipment.  In a business where presentation, style, and panache was at least half the game -- if not more -- Errin practically faded into the woodwork.

It wasn't that the guy was ugly or anything like that, but in this section of the city where most people wore skintight clothes that showed off their physical assets, tailored outfits to impress, or outrageous outfits to make some sort of statement, Errin's comfortable and nondescript clothes was very much the exception rather than the rule.

After Errin finally found his way around the equipment, Noriaki carelessly flung his arm over the other man's shoulders and pulled him forward.

"Errin, meet one of my best friends.  This is Tashiro."

"Hello," Errin said in a quiet, placid voice.  "Noriaki's told me a lot about you."

Tashiro gave his old friend a sour grin, before turning back to Errin.  "I can guess what he's been saying about me."

He got his first good look at the new songwriter and wasn't terribly impressed.  Errin was a slender young man just over average height, long irregular bangs of black hair that hung over his face and half-obscured his eyes.  The rest of his long hair was carelessly pulled into a ponytail.  If the viewer was feeling generous, Errin might be consider somewhat pretty.  But compared to Noriaki's flashy blond looks, Deuce's earthy cuteness, or Fen's dark and sullen 'kiss-my-ass' attitude, Errin was rather forgettable.  Tashiro had been wondered why the new songwriter wasn't an actual performing member of the new band and now he knew why.

Errin had the stage presence of a rock.

Later, back in Errin's loft, the songwriter cooked a late dinner as the band members and Tashiro caught up with news.  While the others chattered, gobbled down the excellent food, and chugged down the liquor, Errin curled up in an unobtrusive corner of the room.  He listened to the laughter of Noriaki and the others, smiled contentedly to himself, and eventually dropped into a doze.

**********

The gorgeous dark-haired young man smiled in the darkness, content to be securely held in his Master's arms.  At the moment, he happened to answer to the name 'Sichore', but he would have responded just as eagerly to any other name his Master might chose to give him -- 'hey you', 'slave', 'meat', 'slut', 'toy'... it didn't matter.

In this moment of relaxation, he felt bold enough to snuggle a bit closer to his Master.  But as he dropped a feather-light kiss on his Master's bare shoulder, he knew that something was wrong.  He could read it in his Master's scent and the taste of his body.  Concealed under the languor of satiated desire, his Master was deeply unhappy.

An acute sense of misery ripped across his mind and heart like a razor.  He had failed.  It didn't matter that he had no idea what was wrong.  He existed to please his Master.  If his Master was unhappy, angry, or annoyed, he had to be at fault somehow.

But he was so very careful not to let any of his distress show.  That had been one of the first lessons his Master had taught him.  If he was to perform his intended function -- whether as a pleasure toy or as an assassin -- control and self-restraint were essential.  That meant that no matter how much he ached with need, no matter how badly he might be hurting, no matter how severely he was being punished, he could not show any visible signs... unless given explicit permission, of course.  It had been a terribly difficult lesson to learn.   He could remember being ordered to perform every imaginable sort of activity -- from live fire combat simulations to complex computer security analysis, from intricate tea ceremonies to acting like a piece of furniture or sculpture -- all while an inferno of lust, desire, and sometimes even pain raged inside him.  And through it all, his Master had watched his every move with a mercilessly critical eye for the slightest mistake, the briefest lapse of concentration, discipline, or demeanor....  Yes, it had been hard, but he had learned very, very well.

"It's not your fault," his Master said quietly.

A flush of joy seeped into his consciousness as he realized that his Master knew him so well.  But he also couldn't help the faint twinge of guilt that accompanied the joy.  He was unworthy of such attention.  He shouldn't be bothering his Master like this....

"It's not your fault," his Master repeated as he opened his emerald green eyes and stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling.

He propped himself up on his elbow and murmured in mild curiosity, "What do you mean, Alec?"

On his own, he never would have presumed to speak to his Master in such a casual manner, but in the past week, his Master had been very specific about how he wanted to be addressed.  And if the Master wanted him to speak in a normal conversational manner, naturally he obeyed.

"I know exactly what you're thinking, Sichore."  A sad, wistful smile tugged at his Master's elegant lips.  "After all, I was the one who made you think that way."

These were the worst moments, when his feelings and his training seemed to run in completely opposite directions.  Acutely attuned to his Master, he knew agreement would only make his Master feel more unhappy.  The mere idea of doing that sickened him.  However, if he tried to disagree with his Master's statement, he would be contradicting his Master, not to mention also lying to him.  THAT was disobedience and not to be tolerated.

Finally, he tried a neutral observation.

"I can tell... you're upset, Alec."

As his Master reached up and gently caressed his cheek, something deep inside him quivered sharply in pure ecstasy and he couldn't help nuzzling the deceptively slender fingers in a silent plead for more.  He craved his Master's touch constantly, like a never-ending and insatiable addiction.  A less disciplined slave would be whining and begging to be stroked -- or beaten, if that suited Master's desires.  As for himself, he had been very strictly trained.  Only in very special situations could he presume to actively beg for such a favor.  Fortunately, this was one of those situations.   "Yes, I am upset and you're the cause."  His Master's hand took a firm grasp of his chin.  "But you're not responsible.  Remember that.  Of all people, you're not to blame."

He mutely nodded.  It seemed the right thing to do.

His Master stared into his eyes for a long moment, as if searching for something.  Then with another sad smile, his Master lightly grasped his neck and pulled his head down against his chest.

"Stop punishing yourself and just... relax, hmm?  Go to sleep and don't worry about it, Sichore."

With those simple words, the razor-edged knot of unhappiness and guilt in his chest unraveled and faded away as if by magic.

"If you say so...," he drowsily mumbled before obediently slipping into peaceful slumber.

**********

A firm shake jolted Errin out of his comfortable nap.  He glanced up to see Tashiro staring down at him.

"What's up?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, I thought you might want to help me clear those bozos out of your apartment."  Tashiro gestured at the other band members who were scattered around the loft, snoring noisily.

"You don't have to do that.  They can sleep it off here.  I don't mind," came the mild reply.

"Pretty damn accommodating, aren't you?" Tashiro said with a touch of sharpness in his voice.

Errin blinked.  "You don't like me, do you?"

"Gee, how did you manage to figure that out?"  Tashiro retorted, hands propped aggressively on his hips.

The dark-haired songwriter simply shrugged and started to turn away, but Tashiro suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"Tell me something.  Did you really write those songs?"

That got a wide-eyed stare from Errin.  "Why do you ask?"

The soft, non-confrontational tone in Errin's voice seemed to aggravate Tashiro even more.  His grip unconsciously tightened on the other's wrist, grinding the bones together.  It had to hurt, but Errin didn't seem to notice the pain.

"Or did Kazuhiko set this whole charade up?"

"Why would he do something like that?" Errin asked in bewilderment.

Tashiro smiled bitterly.  "Because he's cruel and he likes his power games.  He enjoys nothing better than getting people's hopes up, then bringing them crashing down.  I wouldn't put it past him to let Noriaki and the others dream about making it big, then screw things up by getting them all tangled up with some crazy legal mess about stolen music and that sort of shit -- maybe even thrown in jail."

"He'd really do something as vicious as that?"

"In a heartbeat.  I've seen it happen enough times."

Errin shook his head, his long bangs obscuring his eyes.  "I wrote the songs.  They're mine."

Tashiro didn't look convinced.  "You know, your appearance is just a bit too convenient.  Kazuhiko dumped them and there you were, waiting on the sidelines, an unknown songwriter who just *happened* to have a whole repertoire of unrecorded songs.  Frankly, it stinks of a set-up."

Errin shook his head, frowning slightly.  "Pure chance.  It just turned out that way."

"These guys have put up with Kazuhiko's shit for too long.  I don't want them getting hurt.  They deserve better."

Errin gazed up anxiously at the scowling Tashiro.  "I wouldn't do anything to hurt them.  I like them and I don't hurt people I like.  When I first met them, I was just another newbie on the music scene.  They were nice to me.  How could I stand around and do nothing to help them after Kazuhiko deserted them?"

"Even if that means playing nursemaid, cook, sound tech, and all-around gofer to this bunch of maniacs?"

"Yes.  Is there anything wrong with wanting to do things for somebody I like?"

Tashiro released Errin's wrist with a disgusted noise.  "God, I can't stand guys like you who let people walk all over them.  Don't you have *any* backbone?  Don't you know the meaning of the word 'no'?"

"Yes, I understand what it means."

"Well, you bloody well don't seem to use it."

"I can say 'no' if I have to," Errin placidly replied. "I just don't do it often."

Tashiro glared at the songwriter.  "Does wanting to take care of them include sleeping with them?"

"What!?"  Errin's head jerked up in surprise.

"Because that's the last thing Noriaki needs, to have you fucking him out of some screwed up sense of pity after Kazuhiko stomped all over his heart."

Tashiro crowded into Errin's personal space.  When the other man edged nervously away, Tashiro followed, eventually cornering Errin against the wall.  Normally, he won't be so pushy, but he was more than a little drunk.  Combined with the stress of moving back to the city with all its painful memories, Tashiro was in a thoroughly grouchy and nasty mood.

"Come on.  No need to play the frightened virgin.  Even if you've been around the clubs for only a few months, you can't be totally ignorant."

"I... I'm not ignorant," Errin whispered, plastering himself against the wall.  "I'm just not interested."

"Ha!  That's a likely story.  If you really are the writer of those songs, then there's got to be a hell of a lot of passion somewhere inside you.  So why don't you prove it?  Where is that fire hiding, hm?  Don't play shy."

Errin flushed and looked away.

Tashiro grabbed Errin's chin and forced the dark-haired man to face him.

"Quit lying to me," Tashiro muttered, then gave him a hard, demanding kiss.

The words seem to echo endlessly in Errin's brain.  The hot body pressed against his, the tongue in his mouth, the hand tangled up on his hair... they all faded away....

**********

"Stop lying to me," Alecto snapped.  Although he never sounded angry, at the moment, his voice had a definite edge of annoyance.

He cringed.  The last time his captor had been so visibly irritated, he had been punished by....  He found he couldn't remember exactly what the punishment had been.  All he knew was that it was horrible and unbearable.

As if Alecto could read the thoughts going through his captive's battered brain, he said, "Do you remember what I told you the last time we had this little problem?  In exchange for stopping the punishment, you made me a promise.  And what was that promise?"

"I... I...."

"What did you promise me?" Alecto demanded inexorably.

"I... I promised... to be... good...."

"Say it again."

"I... I promised to be good...."

"Now tell me.  Have you been good?"

It was as if there were now two people living inside his head and body, fighting for control -- the real Sichore and the slave who was Alecto's creation.  And the slave was winning.

"You do know what it means to be good.  It means doing the right thing.  And what is the right thing to do?"

"To o-obey," he stammered.

"Try again," Alecto snapped, plainly not satisfied with his answer.

"To obey... you... only you."

"You don't sound like you believe what you're saying.  In which case, you're lying to me.  And you know how much that irritates me."

"No!  I'm not lying, I swear!"  His heart raced in panic.

"Then convince me otherwise.  Say it like you mean it."

Frantic to avoid being punished, he tried again.  "The right thing to do... is to obey you."

"Now I'll ask you again.  Have you been good?"

"N-N-Nooo...."  the word came out in a soft wail.

"And why haven't you been good?"

"Because... because I didn't... do the right thing... I didn't... obey you."

"How did you disobey me?"

"You... you told me to be... your slave... and I... refused...."  The other person inside his mind -- Alecto's willing and adoring slave -- shuddered at the mere idea of defying his Master.

"And what happens when you disobey me?"

"Disobedience is wrong... disobedience must be... punished."  His body began to shake uncontrollably.  He knew where this was heading, but he couldn't keep his own mouth shut.

"And how should disobedience be punished?"

"Severely... and without mercy."

Alecto smiled coldly.  "So if you disobey me...?"

He started to rock back and forth, his body echoing his inner conflict as he struggled to choke back the answer.  He knew what Alecto wanted to hear, but if he said it....

"Then... I must be... punished... severely and without mercy," he whispered, closing his eyes in despair.

"Exactly," Alecto said in a satisfied voice.

The slave inside his head rejoiced wildly at being able to please his Master.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Alecto staring at him thoughtfully.

"It seems that the last round of punishment wasn't enough to teach you this lesson, so I'm going to intensify it.  Considerably."

"Please don't!  I can't stand any more!"  He found himself groveling at Alecto's feet, but at this point, he had no pride left.  All he had was fear of what was to come.

Alecto said in an icy voice.  "It's your own fault. You had two choices -- to obey me or disobey me.  You chose to disobey me."

His body shaking in terrified anticipation, he sobbed, "Please, I'll do anything.  Please don't punish me again!  I admit I'm your slave!  I'm your slave!"

Alecto said remorselessly, "Nice try, but much too late.  A few simple words won't erase the fact that I gave you a direct order and you deliberately defied that order."  With a lazy gesture from Alecto, the faceless technicians hauled him off the floor, stuffed a gag deep into his mouth, and strapped him down to a cold metal table.

"Remember, you're responsible for causing your own suffering.  You have no one to blame but yourself."

And with that, Alecto leaned over and whispered a single, merciless word into his ear.

His eyes jerked wide open and even the thick, choking gag was not enough to stifle his agonized screams as he started on an inexorable plunge into the depths of his own personal hell.

(Oh please stop this I'll be good I won't disobey you ever again stop please master I hurt but I deserve this don't I because I was bad somebody help me no I did wrong I am your slave I promise I need you in me master please make it better empty lonely love you master need you master no stop too much yes punish me until I'm good master I'm yours tell me what you want make me yours and it HURTS!!!)

And every so often, like some dark spirit of retribution, Alecto would return to murmur a few more words into his ear and thrust him ever deeper into the abyss.

**********

The next thing Errin knew, he was sitting on the floor, cold water dripping down his face as Tashiro stared down worriedly at him.

"Shit!  Come on, snap out of it, man!"

"What did you do that for?" said Errin as he gave Tashiro a bewildered look.

"What did I...?"  Tashiro took a deep breath, jolted back to sobriety by the scare he just received.  "Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"  Errin got to his feet and looked for a towel for his sopping wet hair.

"The way you zoned out on me when we were... I mean, when I...."

Errin started blushing again as the memories of the last few minutes came back to him.  "When you... kissed me."

Tashiro ran his fingers through his cropped blue-white hair.  "Listen, I'm sorry that I pushed you like that, okay?  It was mostly the booze talking.  But I never expected you to react that badly!"

Somewhere in the middle of that unwanted kiss, Tashiro had felt Errin go strangely still.  When he leaned back to take a look, the empty, vacant stare in Errin's eyes had sent chills down his spine.  Shouting Errin's name and shaking him didn't have any effect.  In a near panic and wondering what the hell he had just done, he had thrown a glass of cold water in Errin's face.  Lucky for him, that seemed to work.  The whole episode couldn't have taken more than twenty or thirty seconds, but it had felt like an eternity to him.

"Don't worry about it," Errin murmured as he blotted the water from his hair.

"Don't worry about it!?  You nearly go catatonic on me and you say, 'Oh, don't worry about it'!?"  Tashiro felt a severe headache coming on.  "Shit, I'm really sorry, okay? I didn't mean to frighten you into...."

Errin gave the other musician a quiet smile.  "I mean it.  It's no big deal.  Believe me, I would have had a much different response if I had felt truly threatened by you."

"If that's true, then you're more fucked up than I thought!"

"Maybe, but we learn to endure what we cannot change."  Errin's smile widened a fraction.  "But I guess that sort of answers your question about me sleeping with Noriaki, doesn't it?"

"Oh hell.  Forget that!  Listen, I'm probably the last one who should be asking but what the hell...."

The songwriter shrugged and said simply, "I suppose you could say I had a bad experience with my last lover."

**********

[Downlevels of the city]

While the audiences at the Cortege seemed to love the Eumenides, it seemed that someone was not happy with the new band's success.  Of course, it could have been that someone simply had a personal grudge against Noriaki.  Two days after Tashiro's reunion with his old band members, Noriaki was on his way home from a bar when he heard a scuffling noise behind him.  That was the last thing he remembered before something knocked him unconscious.

The two thugs chuckled softly.  The skinny one of the pair leaned against the wall of the alley and pulled out a smoke, content to let his buddy do the sweaty work.  The heavily muscled thug happily started to kick in Noriaki's ribs.  Their orders had been definite -- don't kill him, but make sure that upstart musician never forgot the experience.  He was about to start on Noriaki's fingers when, without the slightest warning, someone grabbed HIM from behind.

"Who ordered this?" demanded his attacker in a cold, hard voice.  The large thug thrashed, but the slender arm clamped around his neck was stronger than steel.  His head was wrenched back until he thought his spine was going to snap.

"Gnnngg..."  When all he could manage was a low gurgle, the vise-like grip around his throat eased up just enough for him to gasp out the name of his employer.

As soon as he answered, the inexorable pressure around his throat returned, cutting off any hope of air.  The last thing the man heard was the roaring of blood in his ears... then everything faded away.

**********

Errin calmly dropped the corpse of Noriaki's attacker beside the body of the skinny assailant, then carefully scanned his surroundings with his hyper-acute senses.  Satisfied that his actions had gone unobserved, he picked up the bodies, one in each hand, and effortlessly carried them to a nearby dumpster that he knew would be emptied within the next few hours.  Even if they were found, there would be nothing to trace the dead men to their killer.

After concealing the bodies, Errin calmly set about to erase or obscure any sign that a struggle had taken place.  He then checked Noriaki's condition.  The man was badly hurt, but moving him a short distance wouldn't be a problem.  Errin carefully slung his unconscious friend's arm over his shoulder, lifted the musician to his feet, and carried him away from the dark alleyway.

**********

[Tartarus]

Alec's intercom beeped softly.  He switched off the wall monitor and curtly replied, "Yes?"

Nyx, his head of security, said, "I just received a report.  He's killed two men."

"Who?"

"No one of significance.  Your average hired street muscle."

"What happened?"

"It appears that the dead men attempted to attack or kill one of the band members.  I don't know the exact details.  Any closer and he would have detected our surveillance."  There was a slight pause.  "Sir, would you consider...."

"No, I will not 'tone down' his perceptiveness.  I won't do anything that might endanger his ability to protect himself."

With the faintest note of resignation in her voice, Nyx murmured, "Yes, sir."

"What about the bodies?  I trust that he was discrete about the whole thing."

"Very discrete, sir.  It was probably an unnecessary precaution, but I had the bodies removed and destroyed."

"Thank you, Nyx.  Anything else?"

"No, sir."

Alec terminated the call.  He remained still for a few moments, then re-activated the wall monitor which started playing a surveillance video of Sichore, taken before his abduction... and destruction.

And as he watched scenes of his lover laughing and joking with some old friends... as he listened to Sichore singing... as he saw the playfulness and happiness in Sichore's dark, beautiful eyes, Alec was totally oblivious to the blood dripping onto the floor as his nails dug into the palm of his hands.

To Be Continued.... 


End file.
